The Son of the Suns
by TheInsanityAwarenessBureau
Summary: UPDATE Nov.15! To everyone who thought it was over: It's not. This is where the fun begins. Characters: Anakin, Luke, Leia, Han... you name 'em, we got 'em! Update: NOTICE
1. Prologue

**Discalimer:** We don't own Star Wars. Sure, maybe we _wish_ we did, but as it is... we got nothin'.

**A/N:** Hey, all! This story is a collaboration put forth by he Insanity Awareness Bureau - JediSkye (that's me!) KhaosFrost, and Mrs. Spock. We hope you enjoy reading it was much as we enjoy writing it!  
Annnd... studies have shown a direct correlation between the amount of reviews and the frequency of updates...

"…And in the time of greatest despair,  
there shall come a savior,  
and he shall be known as:  
The SON OF THE SUNS."  
- Journal of the Whills 3:127

"_You were the Chosen One! It was said you would destroy the Sith, not join them! Bring balance to the Force, not leave it in darkness!"  
- _Obi-Wan Kenobi to Anakin Skywalker

"Unlooked for, unhoped for,  
the Sith'ari will come.  
Through his power,  
we are purged and gain strength.  
through his being,  
the darkness will devour the light."  
- Naga Sadow, Dark Lord of the Sith

**Prologue**

"Let me tell you," Han Solo said wearily as he looked over at his companion sitting next to him. "Nothing's been the same since an old fossil and a hotshot kid come up to me in a cantina in Mos Eisley."

An almost empty glass of Corellian Ale clanked loudly down on the scarred tabletop as it was set down heavily. The remains of the amber drink sloshed violently in the bottom of the garishly colored glass.

"You should stay out of cantinas," Lando Calrissian suggested half-jokingly in his smooth voice. "Drink less," he elaborated.

"Or more," Han pointed out with a half laugh. Lando smiled and shook his head before taking a long drink from his own half-full glass. Han sighed and sat back in his chair, glaring about the room as though he could incinerate it with a glance.

_It had to be Nal Hutta._

The Lowrider Cantina was a small establishment not far from the docking bays in Bilbousa, Nal Hutta's main city. It was a worn but popular cantina that specialized in drinks, gambling, and bar fights, as evidenced by the numerous scorch marks that had been only half scrubbed from the walls.

An uproarious cheer sounded from the other end of the room, where one of the many patrons had just won a generous sum of money. The other gamblers spread around the many tables at that end of the room glared at the winner and went back to their cards.

The long, bright, colorful screens at the opposite side of the room were clearly the newest items in the establishment, and they attracted a small crowd that bet zealously on their favorite racers and arena fighters.

The cheap wear of the patrons – spice addicts, grimy street gangsters – coupled with the neon lighting that seeped halfheartedly through the thick, hazy air caused the cantina to give off the dark, sleazy atmosphere so common among low-class cantinas.

Eight long, _long_ days ago, Han Solo had punched a pre-calculated hyperspace jump in a panicked frenzy – a skill which the ex-smuggler had thought he had lost. A week in hyperspace riding on a damaged hyperdrive had not been pleasant, especially considering the company aboard the Millennium Falcon.

Although he was, as hard as it was to tell from appearances, lucky to be alive.

Staring at the distorted image of himself in the glass, Han slowly looked up and across the dulled metallic table and glared at the person sitting opposite him.

"What are you lookin' at?" he snapped.

Boba Fett did not seem as though Han's irritated outburst merited a reply. The armored bounty hunter simply continued to stare silently though the shadowed glare of the T-shaped visor across the face of his helmet.

The violent, thundering entry through the cantina doors across the room was like a herd of dewbacks suddenly jumping on stage and opening a song and dance number.

The loud music came to a sudden halt. Han was glad of that – he hadn't realized until that moment that it had been giving him a pounding headache – and the cantina's patrons stared with high-strung tension as a well-armed and disreputable looking band marched through the doors.

The leader was the notoriously cruel Trandoshan bounty hunter Bossk, his reptilian eyes and feral grin gleaming with the promise of vengeance. Four large, heavily-armored thugs lumbered after him, carrying arsenals of heavy blasters and ugly looking vibroblades. They shoved their way through the crowd, tossing aside gaming tables and causing several feminine shrieks, looking for someone.

"Friends of yours?" Han asked Fett.

The bounty hunter did not answer.

"Well, well, well," Bossk growled viciously as he came up behind the other bounty hunter. "Fancy meeting you here."

Fett looked the other way, completely devoid of interest.

The arrogant Trandoshan sat down in the empty seat next to the armored bounty hunter as his buddies fanned out around the table, blasters trained almost exclusively on Fett. A large, vile looking blue-skinned humanoid with red eyes even went so far as to lazily lift his rifle up to rest against Fett's helmet. The patrons of the cantina looked on with alarmed interest.

"So glad you aren't dead," Bossk continued, wicked fangs gleaming as he grinned.

Han sat back uneasily, instinctively grabbing for the blaster at his side. Lando was more subtle, and leaning forward slightly, he asked conversationally, "Hey, Friend, is there something we can do for you boys?"

"Shut it!" Bossk's show of mocking sincerity vanished, leaving behind only hate and malicious intent. He leaned in close to the other bounty hunter and hissed, voice dripping with venom: "I've been waiting a long time for this."

Fett finally saw fit to reply. "Have you?" the cold, darkly artificial voice rasped as he angled his helmet mockingly.

Bossk exploded to his feet, the chair crashing behind him as he shouted "Listen up!" It was a rather unnecessary gesture, seeing as the confrontation already had the complete and full attention of the entire cantina. He waved his blaster over his head as he addressed his audience in an attempt to showcase his power and authority over the situation.

"I, Bossk," the bloodthirsty Trandoshan glared at Fett before turning back to his audience. "Am going to kill Boba Fett, the greatest bounty hunter who ever died!" he announced, snickering at his own joke.

The darkened visor only stared, devoid of all emotion. Bossk snarled with absolute frustration, and raised his heavy repeater again, this time to fire.

He never got the shot off.

The cantina erupted in screams and shouts as a patron in a long brown robe who had been standing at the bar whirled around. A sudden snap-hiss rent the air and a sapphire blade of light swept downwards and completely severed the arm holding the blaster.

The Trandoshan threw himself on the floor with a pain-stricken roar, holding what was left of his right arm. Above him stepped a tall, authoritative man with a scarred face, whose expression told Bossk he had picked the wrong day to even consider walking into the cantina.

No one moved, and wide eyes watched the lightsaber fly, faster than the eye could trace, downward to halt abruptly mere centimeters from Bossk's neck.

There was a sudden noise of rifles being armed, and Anakin Skywalker's saber was suddenly a brilliant display of light as he deflected the incoming blaster fire with quick, practiced movements.

"No blasters!" yelled the hapless bartender, who had finally mustered the courage to give the customary warning. A stray shot that screamed right over his head quickly silenced him, and he ducked below the counter.

Boba Fett lunged out of his seat, wrenched away the disruptor rifle from the thug behind him with one gloved hand, and threw his heavy gauntlet against the blue-skinned humanoid's unarmored stomach. The ugly Chiss stumbled backward with a grunt, and was promptly fired upon by his own rifle.

The shot strayed slightly from its intended mark and the alien fell to the ground in agony. Fett cringed in excruciating pain, his heavily bandaged right arm shaking uncontrollably. Angry at his weakness, the bounty hunter fired again and finished the job before abandoning the large rifle completely.

The rifle clattered to the ground as the last of Anakin's deflected shots shattered one of the expensive screens across the room and screams rent the air. Then, suddenly, the cantina fell into complete, tense silence as all eyes stared at the two men.

_It HAD to be Nal Hutta,_ Han thought grimly as he slowly pulled his blaster out of its holster. Any experienced bar hopper knew what was coming next.

"JEDI SCUM!" The shout came from a dark corner of the room and was followed by a red blast of laser fire that hurtled towards Anakin.

The shot ricocheted off Anakin's blade, and in an amazing feat, shattered a glass of expensive liquor in the hand of an extremely large, hairy alien whose species was not immediately identifiable. With a roar of rage, the alien surged to his feet, knocking over his table and throwing nearby patrons to the side as he charged Anakin.

And with that, the standoff in the cantina suddenly became a massive free-for-all.

Tables were suddenly overturned, cards flying everywhere as people suddenly tackled their neighbors, and there was a shattering of glass as anything and everything suddenly became a perfectly legitimate weapon. Laser fire was suddenly thick in the air as a scattered amount of people with less courage than their peers made a beeline for the exit.

Lando shot defensively from his chair, shooting at one of Bossk's lowlife friends as Han jumped up to cover his back, whirling to find several patrons at the other end of the room aiming at him and Lando. Han's eyes widened and he raised his firearm uselessly against the mean looking gang members, but a haze of blue suddenly came between him and the laser fire.

Han blinked in abject shock as Anakin dashed back across the room without so much as a glance, leaving behind several debilitated gang members. A blaster bolt whined past Han's head and reminded him why he had taken his blaster out. He turned and fired, but his eye was suddenly caught by the last of Bossk's goons, who had taken cover behind a table and was taking careful aim. Han followed the thug's line of sight and found Boba Fett at the end, fighting left-handed now with his dart launcher, unable to use heavier weaponry while his injured arm hung limply at his side.

Han grit his teeth and shot the sniper.

_I can't believe I just did that._

The chaotic scene only got worse as some girl on the second level, fed up with her date, suddenly turned on him and knocked him over the railing. There was a chorus of ragged yells, and several more people went hurtling over the railing or tumbling down the stairs.

Han turned and dodged beneath several wild shots, and suddenly found himself facing the hairy alien who had charged across the room. The huge creature had hefted a table over his head and was aiming at Anakin.

"Look –"

Before the warning had even left Han's mouth, Anakin had whirled to face the alien, and as the makeshift projectile flew towards him, he simply lifted his hand and the table stopped, suspended in midair. The alien sputtered something unintelligible in rage, and the table suddenly boomeranged back to hit him square in the stomach.

The alien pushed it off with a roar, and charged angrily at Han. Suddenly wishing he hadn't left Chewbacca to guard the ship, he took cover behind an overturned table and frantically fired again and again and again until the alien toppled over with a thud.

Lando suddenly ducked behind the table next to him, shooting at anyone who came too close. Anakin suddenly appeared by Han's side as well, standing upright in the boiling chaos, saber only a humming blur of electric blue. "I talked to the bartender," he announced over the roar of the crowd. "My credit account doesn't work anymore."

"What do you mean it _doesn't work_?" Han asked incredulously as he took a few more shots across the room.

Anakin raised an eyebrow and stated clearly: "It doesn't _work_."

"Well," offered Lando, "At least we don't have to worry about paying for the drinks." He surveyed the room with a wry grin as Han took aim and knocked the feet out from under some ugly little shrieking thing that had come charging at them.

Fett was suddenly at their side as well, saying to Anakin as he passed: "You should have killed him."

Han rolled his eyes and watched Fett go stalking across the room in search of Bossk, who had escaped into the confusion but could still be heard yelling over the din.

Anakin and Han suddenly threw themselves to the ground, narrowly avoiding being landed on by a cursing Rodian who had been tossed over the railing directly above.

Anakin was back on his feet in a moment as the Rodian quickly righted himself and raised his blaster to fire. Anakin's lightsaber cleanly slashed the gun in half, and the Rodian only stared for one shocked second before he ran screaming and cursing for his insignificant life.

Anakin whirled his saber back up into a practiced ready position and deflected a few more shots. He spoke absentmindedly to himself, shaking his head in absolute disbelief. "How did I get here?"

"I don't know, Your Lordship," Han answered sarcastically from his position on the floor as he fired at a Bothan coming up behind Lando. "You tell me."

**A/N: **Loved it? Hated it? _Really_ confused? Let us know!


	2. Chapter One: Eleven Months Earlier

**Disclaimer**: See prologue

**Chapter One: Eleven Months Earlier**

A long time ago, in a galaxy far, far away…

Above the skies of the moon of Endor, amidst the Rebel Alliance's fleet, the Alliance's primary medical frigate, the _Redemption, _circled the planet in high orbit.

It was all deceptively peaceful.

-SOS-

Supreme Commander Mon Mothma of the Rebel Alliance walked swiftly through the_ Redemption's_ pristine white corridors, showing only the perfectly calm composure she always had. It seemed an eternity ago that she had made her way along the glorious and elaborate halls of the Republic Senate on Coruscant. Her entourage had changed since then.

The elegant figure rounded the corner quickly. Behind her marched two well-armed guards, and following closely after was the young, nervous-looking assistant supervisor of the Med Bay, clutching a large white datapad in her hands.

The paneled white hall was tense with expectant silence, and echoed loudly with every footstep and movement of clothing – until they began to hear the raised voices ahead.

"You can't just let him die!" Luke Skywalker was protesting. He stood in the hallway, disheveled and small next to his significantly taller opponent. He was frustrated, his blue eyes tired and his face etched with concern.

"Commander Skywalker," The unamused voice of the high ranking Medical Technician in charge of the Med Bay said carefully. "With all due respect –"

"I was informed there was some trouble?" Mon Mothma questioned rhetorically as she approached. It was quite obvious she knew exactly what was going on. The ex-senator wore an elegantly long, white uniform cut dress, her fingers casually laced in front of her.

The doctor whirled. A stern, aging man who was well known for his inscrutability, the situation seemed to have worn down on his stoic tendencies.

"Ma'am, I will not allow that man in my Med Bay, and I most certainly will not give him medical assistance!"

"He is already in your Med Bay, Doctor Zathan," Mon Mothma answered coolly. "And he will not be leaving anytime soon."

She stepped past the high ranking medical official and into the Med Bay, doors hissing open as she passed.

"What! No!" The shocked surgeon ran after her, protesting vehemently. "I had a _family_ on Alderaan!"

The Med Bay went silent for one long, strained moment as the almost overpowering smell of bacta and sterilizers assaulted the occupants of the room. Mon Mothma looked at the doctor with pity.

"I can't forget what happened," Zathan spoke bitterly as he shook his head.

"Many people have suffered and died in this war, Zathan," Mon Mothma returned softly. "It needs to end somewhere."

"Not with him!" The doctor affirmed loudly. "I will not be part of this!"

"You won't have to be, Doctor," the Supreme Commander assured. "I have made other arrangements."

The fragile medical assistant stepped out from behind Mon Mothma and moved toward the medical droids on the far side of the room, clustered about the figure lying prostrate on a med unit bed.

Zathan froze in absolute shock and demanded in outrage: "With my own assistant!"

Mon Mothma gave him a look which seemed to dare him to make a fuss. "Is there a problem with that?"

Frustrated and filled with rage, he opened his moth to protest, then shut it again helplessly. "Fine," he growled. "Vader is all yours," he muttered to his assistant as he stalked past her. She only watched him silently.

The Med Bay was almost silent for a moment, the only sound coming from the medical droids busy in the corner, and the softly beeping machines.

Luke exhaled with relief and moved from his position in the doorway. "Thank you," he began sincerely.

He was instantly cut off by his superior's stern tone. "This is not over, Commander Skywalker. I will expect you to explain everything aboard _Home One_ in the main briefing room in two hours."

Luke ran a hand through his dark blond hair and nodded slowly. "I'll be there."

"This is not a situation to be taken lightly," Mon Mothma chastised. "I hope you have some idea of what you are doing."

Luke almost smiled. "I do."

"Very well," Mon Mothma took her leave, silent guards following her out. "Take care, Commander Skywalker."

Luke looked over toward his Father lying on the med unit bed, still oddly insuperable even in his debilitated form, and still the Father who had saved him.

He wondered how he was _ever _going to explain this.

Luke could hardly see the figure surrounded by the complex and severely used medical technology and highly sophisticated medical droids. The bioscanner apparatus hummed and sang noisily as it collected and analyzed data from the virtually lifeless form lying underneath it.

"End scan." The Iridonian medical assistant hooked her white datapad into med unit bed, quickly adjusting the med system settings as the overhead bioscanner slowly pulled away into the wall at the voice command.

The 2-1B surgeon droid poked and prodded at exposed flesh of the half-masked face with an elaborate array of needles. "Patient deceased. Ending emergency care."

"No. Override. Attempt life support." The young medical assistant no longer seemed fragile or shy as she put up her dark hair and adjusted the comm piece over her right ear.

"Error: Life Stats: Low." The medical assistant droid, FX-8, spoke with lifeless and scratching artificial echoes of enthusiasm. "Estimated chance of survival: Error – Not available."

Along the lower edge of the holoscreens flashed erratic blue-white lines signifying the non-existent vital signs.

"FX-8, hook into armor life support systems and provide minimal repairs and overrides." The medical assistant looked over the analyzed scans across the screens intensely with pursed lips. "The armor is limiting scanners, rays, and access to vitals. I need an immediate hook up and analysis. I have to see how this thing has been keeping him alive."

The FX-8 assistant droid examined the scorched black armor, and began slowly taking it apart, hooking into the control and life support systems, and commencing with temporary repairs. An elaborate array of revolving mechanical arms extended outward with saws, probes, and various other unfriendly looking medical instruments.

"Life Stats Unavailable." FX-8 commented in its grating and fake metallic voice.

"End emergency care." 2-1B replied insistently.

"No! Override! Attempt sub-life support." The dark haired medical assistant fixed on a new respirator attachment over what was left of the bottom half of her patient's mask.

The monitors blipped and whined as all vital signs suddenly flat-lined. The extent of the patient's cardiac arrest screamed across the monitors and screens vibrantly with an annoying series of alarms.

"Attempt Type C Emergency CPR." The young medical assistant commanded authoritatively, no sign of nervousness yet showing.

"Error–"

"Override!" The Zabrak forcefully cut off the surgeon droid. "Continue resuscitation!"

"Affirmative." 2-1B announced as three flat paddles extended with a twist and click from the surgeon droid's exterior and hummed and pulsed with electricity.

"CLEAR!"

The medical assistant held her hands up and away from the med unit for the brief flash and went back to work at the controls and medical instruments. She swiftly adjusted three of the lines attached to the armor controls.

"Life signs: 34.5" FX-8 announced loudly as the armor systems suddenly reactivated. Almost drowned out by the noise of the med unit, the familiar, sound of haunting breathing coughed and hacked into existence, enduring and failing audibly.

The patient now showed the first signs of life as he flinched and tensed spasmodically against the medical efforts to save him.

"Applying Gylocal stimulant and painkiller." The young medical technician carefully concentrated on the dosage measurements made by 2-1B, and entered the step into her datapad.

"Patient has entered severe levels of shock." 2-1B alerted in his lifeless and artificial voice almost immediately after the first injection as the vital signs across the screen suddenly skyrocketed and then dropped just as dramatically.

"What's happening?" Luke asked loudly over the overwhelming noise.

Undaunted, the medical assistant continued: "Initiate fluid injections into blood stream. Chromostring plus standard emergency life support package. 4.01 synth fluid. 14 Sedative H4b."

"Shock levels increasing at a rate of 42." Another urgent alarm sounded.

The heart rate was weak and increasingly erratic, lost along the along the other failing and failed critical vital signs on the primary holoscreen. The faint and haggard, struggled breathing now came to a sudden excruciating halt.

"What's happening!" Luke demanded anxiously over the noise of the shrieking alarms and monitors.

"Excuse me," the faded-orange skinned humanoid suddenly commanded Luke's immediate attention and turned to face him. "Can you leave?"

"No," Luke answered firmly.

"Then stay out of the way!" The medical assistant ordered loudly in a voice edged with suppressed exasperation as she turned back to the critical med unit. "Now! 26 more H4b for three seconds and four minutes apart."

"Life Signs: FAILING." The FX-8 droid informed, "Life stats: 22."

"2.4 synth fluid increase to injections." 2-1B acted quickly in response to the ever failing and changing vital signs.

"21.9 : Critical Life Stats."

"I know!" the medical assistant yelled in controlled frustration. "Stim injection 4.2 – increase in four minute-two minute appliance!"

"Error. Doctor, the stimulants are counteracting the sedatives for shock." 2-1B explained through his halting artificial speech.

"Switch seds to 3.5 min appliance. Inject... now." Her practiced calculation continued to check and alter the hopelessly erratic life stats without positive effect.

"Patient is passing on." 2-1B announced, "Alert family and friends."

"No! Override!" The medical assistant shouted desperately. "Continue life support!"

"Life Stats: 16.7 and FALLING."

The automatic door to the hall hissed open suddenly with the entry of two more med droids and a floating maintenance probe droid. They hovered over to the med unit and Luke was uncemeoniously pushed to the side.

Everything had faded into a dreamlike haze, time seemed to slow, the sounds of the medical assistant's commands and the intricate medical technology echoed from so far away...

Luke stepped away from the muddled chaos helplessly and sat on a white metal chair on the opposing wall, concern, fear even, eating at him from the inside. He put his head in his hands, staring at the floor he whispered with hope fading almost as fast as the life signs: "Father, please...live...if you can..."

"14.1 and holding." FX-8 announced clearly and loudly.

Luke looked up quickly, his eyes stunned, unsure of what he had heard.

"..._14.1 and holding_..."

And for the first time in hours Luke suddenly was certain of the truth… Anakin Skywalker was going to live.

He was sure of it.

-SOS-

_Home One_ was near-empty, Luke discovered as he jogged down the hallways of the Alliance's flagship towards the briefing room. From the moment he had exited the shuttle he had taken from the medical frigate, he had been struck by the absence of ships and the quietness of the corridors.

He had passed a few tech officers earlier, who had informed him that there was celebration underway down on the moon. He felt somehow guilty that he was essentially dragging Leia (and Han, and Lando, he reminded himself grimly) away from the celebration to listen to news such as he carried.

The thought of his father sent Luke's thoughts into a knotted, anxious whirl all over again. What was going to happen to him? What was happening to him _now_? What –

_No._ Luke shook his head firmly to clear it was he continued hurriedly down the corridor, not sparing a glance out the huge panoramic windows that dominated the wall to his right. _A Jedi must be calm and at peace._

His mind was serene and controlled for one blissful moment, then his churning thoughts came flooding back with a vengeance. Luke shook his head again. This was not going to go over well with Leia, he was certain of that. And it probably wouldn't go over well with anyone else either, for that matter.

The silence of the corridor, broken only by Luke's hurried footsteps, slowly became riddled with the quiet murmurs of voices. He was nearing the briefing room. Luke picked up his step.

He rounded the corner, and there was Leia, just entering the room, still away down the hall. "Leia!" he called.

She whirled, shrieked: "Luke!" and sprinted towards him.

He hugged her quickly, tightly as she came up. "I knew you weren't dead!" she exclaimed in an excited, awed tone. "I felt it."

"Good," he answered, grinning despite himself at her astonishment. He looked up towards the briefing room doors for a second. "Where's Han? And Lando?"

"They're in the briefing room." She looked him over for a moment. "What's wrong?"

Luke bit his lip and smiled wryly. Either her connection with him had suddenly decided to strengthen or his exhaustion had severely diminished his acting skills. "Leia," he said seriously after a moment, holding her shoulders tightly.

She frowned slightly. "Luke…" she looked up at him keenly, though Luke saw carefully masked trepidation in her eyes. "What happened on the Death Star?"

Luke bit his lip. "I did it, Leia," he said softly, amazement coming into his voice as he admitted the incredible truth out loud for the first time.

Leia blinked, her frown becoming deeper. "You did…" she trailed off. Luke saw in her eyes sudden recollection, then they widened as she took a step away from him. Luke let his arms fall limply to his sides. "He _came back?_" Leia hissed, her voice a study of mixed shock, anger, and indignation.

Luke nodded. "Leia," he said softly. "He _saved my life._"

Leia shook her head, eyes widening. "Oh, _no_," she said, strained, denying laughter edging into her voice.

Luke felt suddenly helpless. "Yes, Leia… I'm sorry… he…" he trailed off for a moment as Leia simply stared at him wide eyed. "He's here," he said finally. "On the _Redemption_. That's why Mon Mothma called the meeting."

Leia simply shook her head. "No," she repeated firmly, seeming to completely deny what she had just heard.

"Leia, he killed the Emperor!" Luke tried again.

She simply shook her head, a stubborn glare edging into her eyes as her face hardened and her mouth stretched into a thin line. "_No,_ Luke," was all she said. She whirled quickly and marched back down the hallway, never looking back.

Luke watched her for a long moment.

This was _not_ going to go over well.

**A/N: **Hehe... review...?


	3. Chapter Two: Truth Revealed

**Disclaimer:** See prologue

**Chapter Two: Truth Revealed**

Mon Mothma stood in contemplative silence aboard the unstained white bridge of _Home One_, staring out the wide viewport that opened to the endless crystalline stars and the lush Endor moon below.

"You've seen him, then?" Admiral Ackbar stood near her, finned hands clasped behind his back. He turned his head to face her, thick, gravelly voice tired. "Darth Vader is alive?"

Mon Mothma nodded once, eyes still locked on some unidentifiable point in the starscape. "The high cabinet members and a few other high ranking officials will be present for the announcement."

The Mon Calamari Admiral straightened and stiffened his lips. "The Republic has been given a chance to return now, Commander. That is all that matters."

The Supreme Commander smiled, a tired, thankful, smile that reached her blue eyes and made them shine with hope, recalling the young, idealistic senator she once had been. "Yes, Admiral. The Republic can return, and freedom will live on."

Ackbar nodded, a smile in his wide eyes as the amphitheater behind them suddenly began to fill with the sounds of laughter and celebration. The high ranking officials that had been called to the meeting had begun to file in, exultation running swiftly though the crowd. Mon Mothma exhaled slowly and took a last, long look at the galaxy she so loved. It was time to end the party.

She turned, her flowing white and blue dress robes swishing softly, and looked out into the room at the leaders of the rebellion who had sacrificed everything for this day – for this triumph. She saw Leia coming in the door, face tight and haunted, a stark contrast to the celebration around her. The Supreme Commander frowned ever so slightly at her protégé, wondering if she was all right.

Mon Mothma made a note to herself to try and talk to Leia afterward.

"Thank you all for attending on such short notice." Mon Mothma's call broke through the conversations as the other officials turned and moved to sit in their places around the amphitheater-like room

Mon Mothma turned as Admiral Ackbar took his place by her side, and her eyes suddenly found... "General Solo, _why_ are you here?"

Han blinked in surprise, as if it were the most natural thing in the galaxy for him to be present. "Leia got a comm call to be here at seventeen hundred hours–"

"Last time I checked, General Solo, you were not Leia Organa."

Chuckles and snickers echoed throughout the room. This was by far the least organized and most high-spirited meeting Mon Mothma had ever presided over, not the most desirable situation for the information that was about to be revealed.

Han put on his best defensive face, but Mon Mothma had already turned to his companion. "And you, General Calrissian. Have you to come to honor us with your Leia impersonation as well?"

Laughter sounded freely once again.

"Oh, no, Ma'am," Lando shook his head decisively in mocking seriousness, all the while stifling a smile. "Han's a lot better at that than I am."

Leia, sitting next to them, seemed not to notice her companion's antics, sitting small and quiet at their side. Chewbacca, however, sitting behind Lando, let out an barking laugh as Han started and glared at Chewie and Lando in turn. "Nice," he muttered sarcastically. "Real nice."

Mon Mothma turned away slightly to hide a slight, insuppressible smile as more laughter echoed throughout the room.

When a major victory had just been won, it seemed pointless to leave unexcused irreverent breaches of protocol by some of the Alliance's most publicized heroes, who had, after all, _caused_ the victory to be won.

The Supreme Commander looked over at Luke, standing silently by the doors. This was, after all, his arena today. He nodded slightly, a small, resigned smile on his face.

Mon Mothma pursed her lips as she eyed the three for a moment longer. "Well," she began dryly. "Now that we're _all here_, we can begin." She paused for a long moment, then began slowly.

"We have won a great victory today," she said, her strong voice trained to give speeches in a large room. "We have seen the beginning of the end of the Empire."

There was a sudden burst of uproarious cheers, and Mon Mothma waited patiently for them to die down before she continued. "But I have received important news of something that will greatly affect us all... Commander Skywalker?"

There were curious murmurs as Luke stepped forward. He was quite possibly the Alliance's most publicized hero, yes, and their only Jedi, but shouldn't the Admiral, or Mon Mothma herself, be presiding?

Mon Mothma stepped down from the floor and watched Luke take it, his calm demeanor nothing like that of the frustrated man she had come across in the Med Bay. "There's really no easy way to say this," he began slowly, glancing about the room at his audience. He was not used to giving speeches, Mon Mothma could tell, but if he was nervous, he hid it extraordinarily well. "Today, the mission to destroy the Death Star's shield generator was endangered… because of me."

Frowns and confusion carried swiftly through the crowd. The Commander was, quite frankly, one of the Alliance's best officers. He putting a mission in danger was downright laughable.

"And I left," Luke finished bluntly. He saw his audience's shocked reaction (_Desertion?!)_, and moved quickly to further explain. "Darth Vader was with the Imperial Fleet today. He could _sense_ me, he knew where I was. I had to leave."

So it was Jedi business, then. Some of the more cynical leaders of the Alliance shifted restlessly in their seats. Skywalker's Jedi abilities had always been helpful, yes. But to _desert _on account of them?

But this shed new light on the rumors that the _Executor_ had been in the space battle earlier – rumors which also recounted the destruction of that ship. A wild hope surged through the Council. Had they unconsciously dealt two blows to the Empire today?

"We eventually met, and he took me before the Emperor." Mon Mothma frowned slightly. The young Commander was definitely skipping over something. Something _big_. But Luke continued hastily before she could stop him. "They thought they could turn me to their cause." A small, satisfied smile played across his face. "They were wrong."

The Council had schooled careful neutrality into their faces, waiting for Skywalker to get to the point he seemed to be so carefully dancing around. Whatever this important news was, it was becoming evident that it was not of a pleasant nature.

Luke looked up around the room again, watching his waiting audience. He seemed to take a deep breath, then said clearly: "The Emperor tried to kill me when I refused. Darth Vader killed him, to save me."

Shock. Complete and utter shock coursed so thickly through the room it was almost tangible. Suddenly the room was full of shouted questions, shocked exclamations, and snorts of disbelief.

"What?!" The roar was loud enough to suddenly silence the rest of the room, and all eyes looked to see Borsk Fey'la, head of the Bothan Spynet faction Deep Ear, on his feet in front of his chair, rigid with shock. The Bothan glowered down his long nose at Luke. "Explain, Commander!"

Luke turned to face Fey'la. "Darth Vader did not let the Emperor kill me. He has defected."

There was total silence as Fey'la stood rooted to the spot, stunned along with everyone else in the room. "Impossible," he snorted with a wave of his hand. He turned to Mon Mothma and the Admiral, through Luke still had the floor. "You believe this?" he demanded.

"If he has not truly defected," Mon Mothma answered coolly, "Darth Vader is a valuable prisoner of war, and will be treated as such."

Luke bristled at her words. "He _has _defected, I can promise you!" he insisted.

"Commander Skywalker!" Fey'la was addressing him again. "This is ridiculous! What in the _galaxy_ would ever make Darth Vader defect?" He paused, exclamation bringing another question to the minds of everyone in the room. "And just _why_ would he save you?" there was an undercurrent of suspicion in his voice.

Luke stiffened and whirled to face Fey'la again. "He…" he stopped suddenly, looking around the room at his audience. "I sensed his sincerity," he said stiffly, trying to stay in control. "If you doubt his, then you doubt mine."

Fey'la snorted. "Your sanity, perhaps."

"Representative Fey'la, that is enough!" Ackbar exclaimed. The Mon Calamari Admiral looked around the room, then turned to Luke, standing in the middle of the room, hands clenched at his sides, the only sign of his discomfort. "Commander Skywalker, Fey'la's question is legitimate. Why did Vader save you?"

Luke stared at him for a second, then said softly, almost resignedly: "He's… he's my Father."

Gasps shot through the crowd, and Han, who had been sitting silently through the meeting, shot to his feet and shouted: "WHAT?!"

Leia pulled him back into his seat and Han sat down again with a thud, eyes turning to Leia in shock.

Mon Mothma didn't hear what Captain Solo said to Leia as the room erupted into chaos, everyone questioning and gasping and yelling at once.

She frowned, lost in memories that seemed to come from ages ago. She remembered the first time she had talked to Luke, shortly after the battle of Yavin. A Skywalker had come to turn the tide of battle once again, it had seemed.

But if Darth Vader, not Anakin Skywalker, was Luke's father, then what –

And then suddenly she knew.

She remembered Anakin Skywalker, the tall, grand Hero With No Fear, the poster boy for the Jedi during the Clone Wars.

She remembered rumors from the Clone Wars of Jedi who had just _snapped_, died on the inside. _Fallen_, the gruesome whispers had called it. _Taken alive by the Dark._

She remembered the attack on the Jedi Temple that horrible night on Coruscant, how more whispers had said that no amount of Clonetroopers could have stormed the Temple and won, that it must have been an inside job.

She took a quick intake of breath as she came to terms with one of the most terrible acts of treachery she had ever seen.

Darth Vader, the Scourge of the Jedi, _was_ Anakin Skywalker.

**A/N:** Reviews are better than chocolate! Can we have some? Please:-)


	4. Chapter Three: Forgive and Forget

**Disclaimer: **See prologue

**A/N: **This chapter was a bit of a sudden decision - it's just a short piece to tide you all over until we get the next chapter up! Hope you all enjoy!

**Chapter 3: Forgive and Forget**

Mon Mothma had been forced to firmly end the meeting, but everyone knew...

... It was _far_ from over.

Soon after Luke's revelation, the meeting had become flooded with turmoil and absolute chaos. Mon Mothma knew along with every other half sane official present that none of the fear, shock, or suspicion was helping anyone or anything. Luke had left quickly.

The last few minutes of the meeting had been excruciating. Borsk Fey'la had gone on a life threatening interrogation spree, everyone had so many questions, suspicions — The screaming whirl of emotions had been an underwater storm — violent and inescapable, fast and horrible, and yet everything had moved with the agonizing slowness of a nightmare you can't control.

Luke had wanted nothing more than to yell at the top of his lungs for it all to just _STOP_.

This worried him. He was a Jedi Knight now. He was supposed to be in control. He had _Leia's_ training to eventually see to... if she would ever permit it... and only the Force knew what sort of state his father would be in _when_ his father woke up. Not "if."

_He will not die_, Luke was almost sure, _Not now_.

The blue eyed Jedi Knight walked across the immense and empty shuttlebay, staring at the floor with his hand on his head trying to think. His destination was the small silver-grey _Marital_-class shuttle, one of the few left in the empty shuttlebay because of the celebration of the Endor moon below.

He shook his head in exhaustion as he stepped tiredly, one foot after the other.

_Well, Luke, you were right - it_ didn't _go over well._

He stopped suddenly.

... _Leia_.

He turned around to see her. She had stopped suddenly in her quiet steps as well.

"Luke?"

"Hi," he called awkwardly across the room, not entirely sure of what to say.

"I..." she trailed off, and Luke moved to meet her until they stood not three feet from each other. He felt tearing turmoil and confusion within her that now echoed only faintly of the burning shame and anger he had sensed earlier.

"I don't know what I'm doing," she finished miserably, unable to look him in the eye.

"Leia, I'm sorry..." he began.

"No." Leia cut him off. "You're not sorry..." She paused. "You shouldn't have to be. You did the right thing... Something I couldn't have done."

Luke watched his sister, a pang of sadness running through him as he tried to help her understand. "Leia, he almost _died_ saving me."

She stared up with him, her emotions tied in a knotted hurricane inside her eyes, "But _why_?"

Luke smiled and looked off to the side as if trying to picture it in his mind. "Maybe someday _he_ will know the answer to that."

Her lips tightened and she sighed, "Luke, I was so angry when you told me earlier, and I still am. I'm trying to understand..._the Force_ and what it is and how it works, or how Vader is suddenly so different..."

A part of Luke wanted to ask Leia then and there to let him train her, so she _could_ understand, but he didn't. She would never agree, not now. He watched her silently, patiently waiting for her to continue.

"He's _Darth Vader_, Luke." Her brother heard more than her words - saw the pain in her eyes. He felt the lasting pains of her torture... of the violent destruction of so much she loved and cared about.

"He was Anakin Skywalker once, Leia. I believe he can be again." This time Leia felt the pain hidden deep within Luke – of losing his aunt and uncle, his friends, his hand, along with so many other things... He had felt as much pain as she had in his lifetime... and he was still willing to forgive it all.

"You'd forgive the Emperor, I think," Leia smiled slightly up at him and muttered fondly. "If you thought he was truly sorry for the things he had done."

Luke blinked. _Would he?_ He looked at his sister with slight amusement shadowed with horror. "I don't know about _that_..."

She shook her head. "It doesn't matter. Just please don't expect anything of me, all right?"

Luke opened his mouth to protest, but Leia's expression silenced him.

"All right," he answered softly.

"I...need to go." She looked away.

"I'll see you later."

She nodded and walked away, back towards the shuttlebay doors.

Luke looked after her, wanting to say something more, some meaningful bit of Jedi wisdom that might help her understand... but he couldn't think of anything. He sighed, thankful for the way things had turned out between them, as he turnrd and walked swiftly back towards the shuttle.

"Everything's going to be all right," Luke reassured himself aloud as he exhaled slowly, sitting down heavily in the pilot's seat of the shuttle that would take him back to the _Redemption_.

-SOS-

The young medical assistant, Dr. Sera Tarik, standing above what was now left of Anakin Skywalker, thought very, _very_ differently.

**A/N:** Short but sweet, I hope! Please review!


	5. Chapter Four: Fight and Flight

**Chapter 4: Fight and Flight**

The once serene and white medical bay had somehow evolved into a war zone.

Alarms refused to quiet. Monitors and scanners hummed in their lifeless, yet somehow rhythmically musical tones. The figure lying still on the med unit operating table was nightmarish art concealed under an organized mess of wires, cords, tubes, lines, synth and bacta applicants of all shapes and sizes. Yet the terrifying dark armor existed like a toxic, bleeding stain among the sterile white, life-giving equipment.

"It's hopeless, Sera," Dr. Zathan pointed out with a grim smile from where he stood, leaning against the far wall with his arms crossed in front of him.

"IF YOU AREN'T GOING TO HELP," the Zabrak shouted without even turning to look at her teacher and mentor, "LEAVE."

The medical technician stalked out silently, suppressed anger in his narrowed eyes, keeping his angry thoughts to himself. The dark haired medical assistant straightened the sterile glove on her left wrist, and tried to concentrate. Her hand shook only slightly as she took hold of the handheld vibro saw.

"Ready to begin surgery..." she stated with fierce authority as she activated the saw.

"Life stats at 15.72," The tall FX droid alerted.

"...Now."

_Please don't wake up again._

The sharp, ringing clank of metal sounded clear and heartlessly as the droids moved their delicate, precise appendages, flicking open retractable saws and needles.

_My name is Anakin Skywalker._

_The landscape was a tortured black mass of frozen lava flows. A bitter wind whipped heavily through the air, carrying needles of ice._

_Anakin took it all in without emotion, unable to tell himself apart from the cold and lifeless darkness. _

_They stood there silently, facing each other._

Sera had to look away in sickened horror from the sight as the armor was cut apart and pulled away. How... _How_ was he still alive?!

"Initial tissue damage calculations incorrect. Life stats estimated less than 13.72."

"Collect tissue samples for analysis," Sera managed hoarsely as she shook her head quickly to clear it, and went back to the operation.

_The imposing black figure of black armor stared facing the exhausted human. They seemed to share the same shadow as it stretched across the snow and hardened lake of lava._

_"I've been a fool for so long." Anakin Skywalker spoke quietly, an icy cloud of breath escaping his mouth. A lightsaber ignited downward in a sharp snap-hiss of brilliant blue light._

_The lightsaber flashed outward in a lethal arc..._

_...and clashed with a shriek on a flame of red._

_Darth Vader held the Sith blade outstretched in the black gauntlet of his hand. The Dark Lord lowered the blade of brilliant red blood and hate, forcing the blue saber of cold, silent emotion toward the uneven stone._

On the operating unit the patient suddenly tensed, straining and pulling against the restraints in a jolt. Sera jumped in brief and embarrassing surprise at the sudden flicker of life.

"Increase Oblivane anesthetic solution to five percent." The Iridonian called out.

_The screams of the clashing lightsabers were the same screams of emotion far within his own heart and being, exploding freely outward into new existence. _

_He twisted and dodged and danced out of the way of the venomous red light and struck outward with the blade he held only in one hand. _

_The fragile white floating in the air swirled away from the very presence of the Force radiating off the two fighting beings. No matter how fast and far Anakin moved and slashed the dark shadow always seemed to deflect every strike, hardly moving at all. Anakin spun and cut violently outward as he threw his whole body into the movement. He twisted and feinted a strike and_

_He fell. _

_He had tried so hard not to._

As the dark armor was slowly taken apart, everything started to go wrong. The patient still struggled, unconsciously fighting the changes taking place and the help trying to be administered. Flashing and searing sparks flew everywhere. The FX droids taking part in the operation had to constantly stop and replace the severely dulled saws from cutting through the almost impenetrable armor.

Even worse was the process of cutting away all the dead flesh and tissue.

FX-8 stated over the noise of the operation, "Error: Life signs too erratic for estimation."

The medical technician was holding up her gloved hand in shockShe couldn't hear the alarms and monitors screaming out warnings and the droids making calculations for doses and possible antidotes. Operations were usually bloody and she never had a problem with that.

But this was not blood.

The very essence of shadow seemed to stain her glovesSera had known something was wrong, and there it was in front of her widened eyes. She wafted her other hand over it cautiously, and jerked her head away as a not-smell that made her skin crawl and stomach drop brushed over her.

Poison? But _who_ could…?

"Life signs failing."

The Zabrak's shock suddenly broke when she finally heard the world around her.

"Activate gas binders. I want the toxin cleared out immediately. And take some samples for analysis," the medical technician ordered as she adjusted the settings on the med unit screen. Needlesopened from their places on the operating unit and injected with a simultaneous twist and click to begin their task of cleaning out toxins.

"Life signs now falling at a rate of 54."

"_What? _No!" Sera looked frantically at all of the data readings on the screens and monitors, but the flaw or failure couldn't be found.

_He hadn't cried out as he struck the ice and ash floor. It seemed to drag him down and hold him there in the pain and cold. The shadow towered over him, blotting out any light there might have been in this place of darkness and death. _

_"Can't you see?" Darth Vader spoke with his dark helmet inclined forward. "I've already won."_

_Anakin shouted out in the endless and empty cold that did not listen_. _"NEVER! Never again!"_

_The wind blew harder and colder, mingling ash with ice in the empty and dead air._

_"You need me to survive," The Dark Lord continued sadistically. "You always will."_

_"I_ hate_ you!" Anakin screamed in bitter hopelessness, trying not to hear the truth eating at his insides, hating every part of it. _

_My name is Anakin Skywalker_... _I am Darth Vader. _

_"NOOOOO!!!" Anakin screamed out wildly in heart wrenching pain. He called the lightsaber to his hand, leaping up in a fury of anger and energy._

_The cold darkness only laughed._

... _My name_...

... _My name is Anakin Skywalker_...

_And laughed. _

"Life signs failing," the FX-8 droid alerted again.

Sera tore off the stained gloves, ignoring the burning sting she felt from the black liquid as it touched her hands in her hurry. She was sure was only her imagination.

Sera hesitated a moment and carefully prepared one final injection.

"Doctor, what is that?" One of the medical droids queried, almost hesitantly.

"Thanatizine."

The droid jolted from shock. "Action unadvised. Life signs too low."

_"_I know," The medical technician said softly as she carefully stuck in the final needle.

There was nothing else she could do for now.

-SOS-

It was midmorning on _Home One,_ andthe primary hangar bay was filled with newly arrived ships, laughing and talking pilots, and mechanics happily repairing ships damaged from the battle before. Everyone here seemed so content with life, the universe, and everything, that Lando felt out of place.

"So...uh...where is Han now?" The dark skinned gambler turned nervously to the Wookie towering over him. The two old friends were in front of the _Millennium_ _Falcon _assessing the damage and trying to... predict Han Solo's eminent reaction.

Chewbacca roared an answer and shrugged.

"I do believe he went to find Princess Leia. I don't think he's seen her since last night," Threepio offered as Artoo whistled an affirmative.

"Well then, that's good to hear." Lando finally relaxed, a confident smile on his face. "Leia will put Han in a good mood, for sure."

Artoo beeped a warning and called their attention to the other end of the hangar bay. They watched the ex-smuggler enter and slowly made his way toward them, staring down at the floor.

"Oh, _perfect_." Lando straightened his shirt and cape and tried to mentally prepare his case. Artoo whistled anxiously and Chewbacca crossed his hairy arms, watching in seemingly amused silence.

Han Solo looked up at his friends hopefully. "Hey..."

When he saw the looks on their faces he suddenly turned to the _Falcon._

And stared in utter shock.

"Look, Han, I can explain…"

Lando trailed off as Han continued to stare at the _Falcon_, namely at its complete lack of communications dish, and the black scoring that surrounded the damaged area.

"Han?" Lando asked his friend anxiously.

Han shook his head 'no no no no no' frantically and made a sound of utter disbelief.

"Han... it's okay... I'll fix it," Lando suggested with a smile, hands outstretched in what he hoped was a placating gesture.

"What did you do to my ship!?"

"Han, it's a little scratch..." Lando tried to reason.

"Oh?" Han put his hands on his waist, and gestured angrily. "A little scratch huh?"

"Yeah," Lando affirmed, looking offended.

"Look! Look at that!" Han pointed to where the main sensor dish had been scraped off in the narrow insides of the Death Star. "That's_ more _than a little scratch!"

"Well, fine. If you're gonna get technical about it, I said 'not a scratch', and that's not a '_scratch_.'"

"You're paying for it." Han pointed firmly at him, and started off toward the freighter.

"Fine with me," Lando answered as he walked after his friend.

"And I want some new stabilizers, and—"

"Hey, let's not overreact here." Lando cut him off quickly, defensive at the sudden mention of extra expenses.

Chewbacca shook his head in silent laughter and followed with Artoo and Threepio closely behind him.

**A/N:** Well, dear readers, we have a bit of _interesting_ news for you all. We've decided it would be in everyone's best interest if we sat down and just _wrote_ out all the chapters leading up to Anakin waking up. Because Anakin is, no matter how you slice it, the center of this tale. So the bad news: No more updates until around Thanksgiving. And the good news: You'll get three, four, maybe five updates within the span of a week. Which isn't such a bad thing.

But we will not disappear off the face of the Earth for a month. Questions, comments, and suggestions will be read and taken into consideration. If we get a lot we may start answering them! Hint, hint... (boy am I subtle or what?)

So until then, dear readers!

JediSkye, of the Insanity Awareness Bureau


	6. Notice

Hello, dear readers.

The Son of the Suns is going on indefinite hiatus.

We apologize profusely, but there is no way we can update at a pace that makes both us and the readers happy. We are simply too busy right now.

Again, we apologize, but do not be surprised if we turn up again someday.

Thank you all, you've all been wonderful.

JediSkye, of the Insanity Awareness Bureau


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